The Five Flavors of Seifer And Zell
by TrueBlueOtaku
Summary: COMPLETE. Zell was surprised that Seifer could taste any other way than acrid. M-Rated for reasons given later. SeiferxZell. FuujinxRaijin mentioned.
1. Sweetness

**A HIDDEN BEAUTY 5/30/2008**

The sun was bright in his eyes as he made his way through the small square in the main section of Winhill. Here, the air was clean and pure, virtually untainted by pollutants, and the sunrise, in all its riotous glory, cast all around him in a cool golden light. A slight wind picked up; he felt goosebumps roil up on the surface of his forearms and thighs. Dressed in a loose white shirt and long grey shorts of a similar fit, he sensed each and every chilly finger the inquisitive breeze hooked into his collar and used to play with his loose, ungelled bangs. The sound of the playful wind played counterpoint to the soft, airy squeaking of his cheap vacation sneakers.

Strolling casually down the dirt path, Zell turned his head, blinking away stray flaxen strands that danced too close to his clear blue eyes. He emitted a soft noise. There he is, came the thought. The martial artist made a cursory scan about him, and, finding things suitably quiet, stepped off the path into moist, dewy grass that whispered under his shoes.

After taking a few steps he grinned inwardly.

What the hell, he thought, and sprinted forward, the chill morning air making his teeth ache.

Unfortunately, his target, the broad-shouldered silhouette of a powerful young man, moved aside more from surprise than reflexes, leaving Zell, already in midair, to land rather artlessly in a particularly wet patch of grass further on.

Seifer had woken about fifteen minutes earlier, and had taken the chance to wander. He'd never made a point to visit this place, though he'd heard stories of it during his last training years at Garden. Now he realized there was beauty in the world too complex for superficial chatter, and much too deserving of its secrecy.

Six months ago, Seifer attained SeeD status, graduating at the top of his class with honors, the product of a lifetime of trial and error. Two weeks ago, he asked oh-so-graciously for a few days' vacation time, and was allowed it without question. A day after that, he asked Zell to come with him, offering to pay for all expenses in spite of the fact that the younger man had several ranks on him and an ample salary.

A minute later, Zell had replied with a "yes" (though he didn't allow Seifer to pay his way; there was no way in hell he'd make himself financially indebted to the swordsman).

Seifer made his sauntering way over to the now-soaking Zell Dincht and regarded him with a questioning green gaze. He smiled at the sarcastic glare directed back at him, at the pieces of yellow-blonde hair now plastered to Zell's forehead of sticking out in a rather amusing manner, and at the well-sculpted body he could all but imagine underneath the loose attire.

It had taken four months out of the six to capture the heart of the wild SeeD, and another before they treated each other's quarters as extensions of a shared space. Seifer had gotten used to the general disorderliness Zell left in his wake everywhere he went. It was the harmony to his own slightly careless way he dumped things on various surfaces – a habit blown out of proportion when the both of them 'came home' to either room otherwise preoccupied. Still, you had to laugh when you found another's sock or boxers atop your head when you woke the next morning.

The both of them had left their room at the inn in a similar state of disorder.

Pushing such thoughts aside for the moment, Seifer drawled, "I thought we established that coffee wasn't somethin' for you to drink."

Zell's mouth twisted as he stubbornly retained his glare. "Shut up, Almasy-" he got to his feet, shivering "- maybe coming with you wasn't such a bright idea."

Seifer closed the few feet between them and drew the smaller man closer, effectively soaking his entire right side. "Don't tell me that dressing like that in this weather is one of your brighter ideas, Chicken."

"Meh." Zell regarded Seifer's clothes perfunctorily. He'd intelligently chosen dark, thick pants, army boots, and the bastard had even worn a coat.

Oh, man. One more thing he was good at; dressing himself properly.

The wind picked up again, and Zell protested noisily, burying his face in the waterproof cloth of Seifer's coat. Both of them stood for a moment in silence.

It had taken six months and an hour for each to realize that a freezing matrial artist and a well-clothed swordsman made for a wonderful morning.

And, as an after thought: maybe they could deal with doing this for the rest of their lives.

**FLUX 6/20/2008**

Maybe it's just me.

Maybe- maybe it's just me, but lately things in general have begun to fall apart at the seams, like someone's found the cosmic loose thread and tugged, hard enough to cause the fabric of good intentions and fortune to unravel slowly.

Or maybe I'm just being bitchy. I do that a lot these days. It's no help at all that after those few months of celebration and recognition, no one knows the names of the individuals who ended the Time Compression and saved the world. Political problems have settled back into their places. Esthar has enacted new laws pertaining to Sorcery; at the latest summit, Trabia protested; the Gardens are all rotting, not noticeably from the outside, but the putrid core is clearly visible from within.

Maybe it's just me, but I think this world doesn't need a fresh batch of mercenaries turned out on the streets...

_"... what are you _doing_?"_

_Zell jumped nearly five feet into the air, protesting with a barely restrained 'Agh!' On the library desk in front of him lay an open tablet. Its pages still looked crisp._

_Seifer would have snatched the tablet away in an instant, but watching his younger companion - was that what he would call him? It sounded so strange... - proved much more entertaining than whatever he'd been scrawling on the page._

_"... nothing."_

... and it doesn't help that that bastard of a boyfriend lover companion SEIFER insists on derailing my train of thought.

_Seifer handed the journal back to Zell, who lay prone on the bed, tickled halfway to Hell. Somehow the smaller man couldn't manage to glare with his shining, mirth-saturated eyes. "Happy now, you prick?" he asked, no spite behind the words._

_"Very contemplative. Never thought that something like that could come out of a head like this," Seifer replied, making it very obvious which head he was referring to with an affectionate pat. His face changed a bit as his eyes took on a more serious sheen. "The Gardens are changing, Zell. Slowly, but surely."_

_"It's not fast enough."_

_"... look, Dincht, I might not be a SeeD, but I know Balamb Garden, _our _Garden, has changed dramatically since-"_

_Zell sat up, smoothing the suddenly tense planes of his boyfriendlovercompanion's face with a gentle, bare hand. He didn't finish the sentence aloud, didn't really want to._

Though, I have to admit, he is right. The Garden is changing... though the seeds blooming are still the same strain of #(&#&--

Gah, I don't even know anymore.

I have to be here for Seifer's sake. He may act sane, and is, but without a constant watch, there's no telling where his dreams or where the remnants of Ultimecia could take his mind.

... and if I want change, might as well be the first to change.

_Seifer didn't ask why Zell had come over unannounced, carrying two duffels and a dazed air on his face. He simply let him in and allowed him to settle before sitting on the couch next to the martial artist. _

_A few moments passed._

_"I- I resigned." He wasn't sure if Seifer heard him, the words were so quiet. _

_Seifer did. It took a few more moments for him to register the full force of Zell's statement. "I see," he replied, equally quiet. To most people, resigning from a decorated post as a Garden Commander of the Fleet after only a year of service was beyond their comprehension. He understood perfectly. "Do you want something to eat?_

_"... a hot dog," Zell said absently._

Sometimes Seifer's attitude pisses me off. But right now, I can't afford to get hung up on the traits I managed to come to terms withalmost a year ago.

_Seifer snorted. "Some things never change."_

God help me when I start to speak in cliches.

_And he leaned over to cover Zell's mouth with his own, reaching into a formerly intangible tapestry and reweaving its threads with the utmost care._

Some things never change...

**A LIVING METAPHOR 6/27/2008**

Seifer took a moment to gaze out at the sea, pondering its immensities and wondering at what he had yet to see. He'd been nearly all around the world by now, traveling intermittently alone and accompanied to the remoter areas of the globe, and was now here, on Centra, visiting Matron Kramer's resurrected orphanage. He could hear the laughter of children mingling with the sound of the ocean; smell the tang of salt and life intertwined with the comforting odors of the afternoon meal.

If he could have remembered the orphanage of his childhood, this is what his memory surely would show him. As he passed through the entrance, Seifer had to veer immediately left to avoid careening kids engrossed in a game. They barely took notice of him. This was good: he'd intentionally worn unimposing casual clothes in lieu of his trenchcoat and steel-toed boots.

Zell, however, just missed getting his shins broken. He laughed good-naturedly as he danced out of the children's way and grinned at Seifer, who smiled back amusedly.

"Kids these days," the younger man mused as he made his way up the steps.

The rest of the trip into the depths of the orphanage was uneventful. Once or twice a child stopped to stare at Seifer's height, or Zell's tattoo, but none of them seemed afraid of either SeeD. It was as if they sensed the subtle bond that drew both young men to this place.

"Matron! Matron!" A little girl ran out into the back, towards the garden, calling her guardian.

"Yes, child?"

"Two men are here! Tall ones!"

"Is that so...?"

"One has this wicked-awesome tattoo on his face!" A scruffy young boy around the age of four with dirt all over tugged at Matron's darkly-colored dress. His brown eyes shone fascinatedly, and he squealed as the men in question approached Edea Kramer.

Almost simultaneously, three adult faces softened in knowing smiles, a gradient of solemnity.

In spite of the composure Zell had managed to grow into over the years, he fidgeted in an obvious attempt to keep from embracing his first real mother. The kids that had amassed around the trio giggled and hid behind each other, smiling up into the brilliant profiles of the adults.

Seifer was the first to speak. "The garden looks beautiful, Matron. The orphanage does, too. Garden's funds certainly helped patch this place up," he chuckled, severely understating the orphanage's current state. Completely rebuilt on the original planning, the warm grey bluestones used to construct the new walls radiated a sense of rebirth. They fit... they fit so perfectly. And the garden... the garden was flourishing, though it was obvious where little feet had trampled the grass while playing games. Everywhere, flowers grew. Lilies, roses, irises, and anything Matron could nurture out of the poor Centra soil poured forth from the earth in profuse riots of color and subtlety. It would make a million hearts ache.

The trio carried on a conversation for a little while, then agreed that it would be best to let Matron alone as she put the children down for their afternoon nap. When the last child asked if his tattoo was real, Zell turned to Seifer and nodded, and they made their way into the garden, drinking in its beauty. It wasn't until they spotted a pair of blooms nestled in a small enclave that the pair stopped.

"Hey, I think I remember these..."

Seifer raised an eyebrow. "What, these? What do you remember?"

The younger man squat down thoughtfully. "Well, I think these were the flowers Edea gave us to plant - you know, to help us get along?"

Seifer shook his head, almost regretfully, and came down to Zell's height, resting an arm across the other's slighter shoulders. "Not really."

"Huh. Well, what I think happened was that we'd just gotten into one of our little spats. As always, it was your fault." Zell squeaked as the other pinched his ear. "It was! It usually was, anyway. But... Matron gave us two seeds and told us to go pick a place to plant them in and care for them together to help us get along. And..." He trailed off.

"... were they supposed to be the same plant?"

In the small planter, the two flowers had grown up almost symbiotically. One, large and stocky with maroon leaves and stalks towered over a shorter one. The taller's bloom was white, profusely petaled, and tipped in red; its head reached plaintively for the sun so easily obtained by the second, whose head nestled neatly under the first's, a lush green plant with blue petals widely spread to reveal a buttery-yellow center. Their stems had twined so intimately that to try and extricate one or the other would result in death.

Zell stared at the living metaphor, and then at the soil in the planter. The side the taller had been planted in was rocky, and obviously acidic from the minerals that had leached out over years and years of ocean squalls. Softer, more earthy material made up the soil from which the blue and yellow bloom drew its strength.

He planned to answer, but his line of thought completely unraveled as Seifer's insistent lips caressed his neck.

"God, you just can't get enough, can you?"

"Never," Seifer answered, smirk all-but-figurative in his voice, and drew the other young man closer before-

- the giggles of children startled the both of them. A few murmurs of 'kissing' emanated out from behind them. When the pair looked over their joined shoulders, Zell nestled in Seifer's arms, the group of kids scattered with shrieks and more giggles, and the sea behind them crashed audibly.

The pair only smiled and laughed, one head tucking in under another's as the orphanage awoke from slumber.

* * *

**A/N: **And so ends the "Sweetness" chapter of _Five Flavors_! I'm still trying to decide between doing the "Acerbic" or "Salty" chapter next... ah, well. Time will tell.

CLICK THAT REVIEW BUTTON. IT WILL UP YOUR AWESOME STAT BY AT LEAST 200.


	2. Acerbic

**A/N: **Whoo! Second chapter up! This one's one of the angry ones, unfortunately. I decided to get it out of the way. Hope it doesn't disappoint.

Thanks to **cerespallas** for reviewing! +200 to Awesome.

* * *

**WELL, THEN 6/29/2008 - 7/1/2008  
**

The Balamb weaponsmith smiled welcomingly as Zell Dincht entered for the first time in over a year. "You have it, don't you?"

The martial artist unfastened his Gloves and set them down on the workbench, handing the weaponsmith a small box. "The last piece," he said, grinning.

"How'd you find the time?"

"I didn't."

--

This was the last fucking straw.

The last. Fucking. Straw.

As Zell laid a swath of death and destruction down in the Training Center, he couldn't help but visualize a Chocobo straining and collapsing under the weight of the bully Seifer Almasy. It didn't help that recent events banked other feelings under his frustration. In fact, the mild arousal at the thought of _being under_ Almasy served to spawn feelings of defiance and reluctance to concede _anything_ this time. He wasn't at all in the mood for reconciliation. And while the faint voice of reason in the back of his head prescribed about fifteen more minutes of monster bashing, Zell stormed into the showers, stormed out, had a door almost close on him, and was snagged immediately by an amused-looking Irvine Kinneas.

"Going off to meet your boyfriend?"

Zell snarled and jerked, or tried to jerk, his arm out of the gunman's grasp. "Let off!"

Irvine kept a firm grip as he rummaged through his own pockets for something... and quickly found his foot crushed under the pressure of a well-placed kick. When he finally found his voice again, he half-yelled after the retreating back of his counter-assailant, "Happy fucking birthday..." He stuffed the hot dog coupon into his pocket again and limped away, not quite sure if he needed Dr. Kadowaki's attention.

While Zell walked, he fumed. Of all the things to do, this had to be the worst. The epitomy of low insults. Unlabeled or no, that little 'gag gift' he found in front of his door this morning left nothing to the imagination. It _had _to be Seifer. Seifer's name was practically written all _over _it.

He didn't realize immediately that he'd passed the bully's dorm. Backtracking heatedly, Zell took a few breaths - to help extinguish or fan the flames? - and pounded a couple of times on the door.

The door slid open, and Seifer's irritated countenance loomed suddenly in front of him. "What in the hell-"

"_What the hell is wrong with you?!_" Zell spat, pushing his way past Seifer into the dorm, needing the suddenly stifling privacy. He faced Seifer again, who was now more confused-looking than angry. "Who in their right mind leaves an unwrapped sex toy as a gift in the hall _where everyone can see it_?!"

"That wasn't me," Seifer growled dangerously.

"_Of course it wasn't_! Nothing is _ever _Seifer Almasy's doing! _Ever_!" Zell interrupted before Seifer could defend himself. "You bastard, nothing-"

"_That wasn't me_, Chicken-Wuss," Seifer snarled. "Will you shut up and listen-"

"No, _you_-"

"_ZELL!_" The leather of Seifer's gloves creaked as his hands curled into fists. He watched the younger man recoil from the sudden use of his first name, watched a shadow of the dark scowl reform on his face. His own teeth were clenched vise-tight. "The Disciplinary Committee _apprehended_ the dumbfuck that left that thing in front of your door."

Zell's anger answered before the martial artist could stop it. "Sounds like something you'd do: handcuffing yourself just for kicks," he said, implications all too clear.

A thick silence filled the next few moments. Zell's face fell the slightest bit in belated realization before Seifer grabbed a suddenly limp shoulder and practically threw him out of the door. Something smacked Zell's temple and landed on the hall floor as the dormitory door snapped shut with a particularly angry out rush of air. He grabbed the small package, nearly crushing it in his gloved palm.

He opened the diminutive box - as if it hadn't been wrapped meticulously and neatly, in expensive-looking teal paper - and choked on his next breath of air in disbelief.

It was an Adamantine. The rough stone glinted as Zell picked it up between two careful fingers, placed it back in the box, trembling slightly. His stomach felt as if he'd swallowed a hundred units of the rare, expensive material, because he'd needed this last bit for his new Gloves, had never found the time to visit the fields near Dollet in the midst of his busy schedule - and only those closely associated with him knew anything about his passion for the new model.

In addition, his furor at this morning's "gift" had made him forget one thing: he was eighteen years old today.

"Goddamn," he swore, and looked over at the closed door.

As he walked off, feeling like the biggest bastard of all, he didn't even stop to imagine what that muffled noise behind the door was.

On the other side, Seifer ran a hand through his hair and said lowly, "Happy fucking birthday..."

--

Zell walked out of the weapons shop, hearing the last echoes of the smith's well-wishing in his brain. He didn't care in the least that his new Gloves were a bit too tight.

He'd learn to deal. Maybe.

It was hard, though, when you later ran into the very person you've pissed off and are pissed off at while in the midst of venting your anger on Training Center Grats. It's worse when you're dripping with dark green bodily fluids and generally looking like an emotional time bomb.

Seifer, as always, looked pristine, unwrinkled. One shake of the hand and Hyperion's wicked matte black blade was suddenly spotless. Only his expression marred the unearthly facade. On anyone else it would have looked strange, but the dichotomy between the scar and the rest of Seifer's aristocratic face, along with the weight of his tight glare, was disconcerting in too many ways to count.

He said nothing. Zell followed suit.

When a T-Rexaur emerged from the foliage, they both took it on without giving a thought to the members of their makeshift party. By the end of the battle, Zell spat a bit of blood-stained saliva into the bushes and glared as Seifer raised his hand to cast Curaga, pointedly refusing the offer. "I've got Hi-Potions back in my dorm."

Seifer's hand lowered slowly to his side. He nodded, cleaning Hyperion on a patch of clean grass and sheathing it, then turning to go. When he paused for a moment, Zell froze, expecting him to turn and do something violent and painful to him in return for the verbal assault Zell'd dished out at noon. But he only sighed, a soft, barely perceptible exhalation, and kept walking until the grey of his coat disappeared into emerald shadows.

"What the hell..." Zell breathed, slumping against the nearest tree. Ow. That hurt. He gingerly straightened up and began to follow in Seifer's footsteps, freezing again and wincing again as said bully returned from the shadows, hand upraised.

Zell cried out in surprise as he felt the Curaga wash over him.

Another thick silence descended on the pair for the second time today, but it was soon shattered by Zell's rather loud exclamation of "I _told_ you that I had Hi-Potions back at my dorm, man! Stop wasting your strong Magic on stuff like that!"

"I'll use my Magic at my own discretion, Chicken-Wuss."

The martial artist growled heatedly. When Seifer was showing signs of leaving again, he muttered a 'thanks,' hoping half-heartedly that the other didn't hear it. He expected to hear 'go fuck yourself, you stupid dick,' or 'bite me,' but didn't try to stay to hear it.

As he passed Seifer on his way back to the dorm, the swordsman thwacked the back of his head lightly and caught the martial artist by the arm as he spun to face his taller peer. Seifer peered with an incisive gaze down the sharp angle of his nose at Zell. When Zell tried to pull free (rather pathetically, actually) he tightened his grip.

Then he opened his mouth-

-and faltered.

Zell stared. Almasy at a loss for words? What's the temperature in hell, by the way?

"... whatever." Seifer let the other go and walked off, this time for good.

The martial artist groaned and sat back against another tree, wincing with a different kind of pain. His throat felt tight, and his eyes were stinging. He could barely inhale without feeling the mass of Adamantine grow heavier. And... h-hey... this tree was actually rather comfortable.

Zell passed out, exhausted from the day's events, right in the heart of the Training Center.

Needless to say, his wakeup call the next morning was a giant horde of Grats.

Hopefully he wouldn't grow older, if this is how much each birthday would suck.

And the damn Gloves were still tight.

* * *

**A/N:** Don't ask me why Irvine seems to be hitting on Zell. I don't even know why.

Anyway, hopefully the next chapter will be a bit happier. I did like my exercise in virtually fluffless SeifZell, but I'm used to _reading _angry love, not _writing_ it.

The offer of +200 Awesome still stands for those who R&R. See you next chapter!


	3. Saline

**A/N: **This third chapter is a testament to how potent R&Ring is... even though I'd probably have gone on and written the rest of it because this pairing is my OTP. Thanks so much to you guys who reviewed!

**cerespallas: **You're back again! Sweet! You'll just have to read and find out which way it'll go in the chapter after this one, dear. :D What are you up to, 400 added Awesome points? I dunno. You've got a lot, though.

**Agent Oz:** Hey, I agree. When it's a done deal, pairings like this can get a bit drab. That said, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and thanks for reviewing. +200 to Awesome!

**ffrpgfan: **I'm so glad that you can appreciate something taken from a different angle. :D +200 to Awesome for you, my dear.

And now onto the third chapter of _Five Flavors_!

* * *

**SURF 7/9 – 7/13/2008**

Three highly unlikely lunchmates sat across from one another over freshly prepared seafood stew and bread in Balamb's one mom-and-pop café. Two, a dark male and a rigid female, sat closer together, creating an unspoken line between themselves at the lone young man with the strange facial tattoo.

Raijin broke the tension, saying "hey, let's eat, y'know?" and immediately dunking pieces of his small wheat loaf into his stew. Zell's awkwardness began to ebb, and he, too, began to eat with gusto. Fuujin ate with controlled movements. For a few minutes the three buried themselves in this forced air of friendliness. Soon, however, and with stuffed face, Zell fixed his bright blue eyes on the pair, noting an absence all too rare. Seifer's presence still lingered on them both; he was in their every breath and touched nearly every thought that crossed their mind, he was sure of it. But Seifer was gone, and that shocked him. He felt like squinting his eyes to try and discern the outline of a trenchcoat or the silhouette of lips turned up in a smirk. He didn't for obvious reasons. He didn't need to further prove to the lackeys of his lifelong archrival his false title of "Chicken-wuss."

"So, why in the name of Hyne'd you guys buy me lunch?" And why in the name of all that was holy did he accept the offer? Maybe, when he'd found them – or vice versa, he wasn't sure – standing out at the pier, looking at nothing in particular, with nothing to do, their leader spirited away to some nowhere pursuing his designs to fill it with his unbearable ego, he'd felt a ghost of pity and didn't mind when they'd asked him if he had a moment. The space between that moment and this one was filled with a perfectly empty silence. And he didn't mind one bit.

He did mind, though, that Seifer was gone. And he minded that he minded about something like that. Before his mind chased itself around once too many times about minding this and that and the other thing, he swallowed and took another bite of stew, tasting the sea.

"STRANGE."

Raijin stepped up immediately to clarify. "We just wanted to get to know you, y'know? (Zell snorted.) And, uh…" he paused for a moment, his lie caught, "Seifer's been pretty weird lately, and you're the only other person we know besides him." He added, realizing that he needed/wanted to expound further upon the subject, "A few days ago he went out to the Fire Cavern without even telling us. Somethin's up, y'know?"

Zell leaned back in his chair, a perfect specimen of young skepticism, frowning. "Uh-huh. Yeah, and you bought me lunch to see if it'd loosen my lips a bit? See if I knew what the hell was going on in his brain? I can't pull something like that out of my ass on the fly. I'm not that smart."

"LIKE." Fuujin might have been glaring.

"… huh?" The martial artist neglected to take his next bite of stew, but didn't put down the spoon. He watched Raijin fumble for and lose his words on the periphery of his vision.

_Fuujin followed Seifer's eyes as they followed the motions of Zell's legs and the subtle coiling and relaxing of his muscles as he gestured with his gloved hands at his friends._

"_LIKE?"_

_She couldn't keep a tiny smile off of her face as her blonde leader glared at her and stalked off like any sort of pissed-off lion._

"_Cute," she said, under her breath, and turned to follow, noticing the new pair of Gloves embracing the young man's hands like a reality too hard to brush off._

"LIKE," she repeated.

Raijin stared at her, not knowing what the hell she was talking about.

"What?"

"ADAMANTINE," she said, no inflection in her voice as she indicated the hand still holding the soup spoon aloft.

Zell blinked.

"_Fuujin, go and get some wrapping paper. I don't care what color." _

_Even though he tried to hide it, the large stone glimmered from between his fingers as Seifer moved it out of view behind his back. His face remained coolly blank._

_Hers did, too, but behind hers there was no embarrassment._

"LIKE."

At that, the martial artist rose, unexpectedly furious. The soup spoon fell into his bowl haphazardly, almost spilling the bowl's contents. "Did he send you to give me crap about what happened? 'Cause that's not gonna make things better, yo! Plus, your guys' plan to do so sucks!" He wasn't so much clenching his teeth as baring them, his prominent canines and bright eyes making him in his anger look semi-feral. His mind had begun to run in circles again. It had been doing this ever since he'd turned eighteen and it had gotten to be tiresome no matter what the hullabaloo was about. Unfortunately his defense was to create more turmoil without to balance out the turmoil within.

Those Grats really had it coming this evening if this issue wasn't resolved by the time he left.

Raijin stood, too, defensive but confused. The café was mercifully empty.

"We ain't pullin' nothing, ya know?! Right, Fuujin?!" he huffed, looking to his companion to back him up. She said nothing, flat-out glaring at the young SeeD with the Gloves that fit too tightly. "Say somethin', ya know?!"

"Both of you - all of you, just leave me alone! I am _so _tired of your crap! I still can't figure out why he has to be such an asshole, even to you guys, especially to me!"

But… ever since the Sorceress War, Seifer had been subdued to an outline of his former self, haunted by the things he'd seen and been forced to do. That knowledge burned the back of Zell's eyeballs like a brand, and his gloves chafed the insides of his wrists as he slammed down Gil onto the table, not looking at how much. He was so tired of this.

He gave those Grats hell.

--

The next evening he rode his T-Board down to a stretch of beach a mile or so from Balamb's city proper. He hadn't been there in years, but he'd been there enough with his Ma when he was young that he navigated the forest paths almost unconsciously, the latent memories rising again to the surface like bubbles in a roiling vat of Potion. Once there, he hitched the 'Board to a post and set the alarm. He shed his socks and shoes and made his way down to the surf, ungelled bangs stirred gently by his movement and the warm breeze from the south.

Another perfect silence filled his mind, and the waves were lapping at his feet. He didn't realize that he'd been crying until the breeze came again and his face felt unnaturally cold. Immediately he stiffened and began wiping at his face. He hadn't been crying. He'd just been overly teary-eyed.

But the tears came faster than he could remove them and eventually he stopped trying, tasting a salty mix of bitterness, stress, shame, and guilt as one or two fell at the corner of his lips. Closing his eyes against the sunset, he turned back to shore, lips pursed to hold back the soft, weak groans that threatened to spill forth as well.

He felt himself falling back into the realm of his empty mind, too tired to think further.

…_ell…?_

A flash of white.

_Zell?_

A detached, tinny voice called to him from the outside world.

"Zell?"

"Shi-" Zell tumbled backwards, knees falling out of his embrace in surprise. He didn't bother to ready himself, didn't even feel his muscles tighten in reflex – rather, they'd unwound in relief. He didn't bother to look up into the green gaze he knew was staring down at the top of his head. Not even the sight of steel-toed boots moving towards him elicited any more reaction from him. He was empty of all his insults and anger. He just wanted this whole thing to get over and done with. He just wanted to let go.

He wanted so many things that were just beyond his sphere of influence.

Seifer Almasy was among those things. He hated to admit it, even when he felt the familiar thrill run down his spine on the off chance he caught the bully looking askance at him. He hated liking this self-absorbed man of past importance. He hated that his mind was chasing itself round and round again, confused and loving that it fed off of this friction between himself and his antagonist.

Seifer stood at Zell's side now. "Curfew's not for a while. I don't have anything to reprimand you for," he said dryly, pointlessly. "Lucky you."

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I'm sorry. Now will you stop making my life hell?"

The bully looked down, away from the sunset into Zell's tired blue eyes. Zell continued. "I already thanked you for the Adamantine, and, well, thanks for the Curaga, even though I didn't need it. And thank your lackeys for trying to help out. But I don't want any more of this. Can't you just grow up and let me alone for once?"

Seifer was smiling without derision. The martial artist couldn't recall with his sluggish mind when he'd last seen that expression on Almasy's face. It made his heart clench, his breath come faster. "You don't want me to, Chickie," he said softly.

"Drop that, you ass," responding not to the remark on his personal opinions, but the overused insult.

Before Seifer could retort, Zell asked mischievously, "By the way, where the hell were you yesterday?"

"Giving hell to something a little less helpless than Training Center Grats."

Always one to show someone up, came the thought. "Raijin and Fuujin looked like lost puppies without you. It was kind of sad." In the muzziness following the outrush of his weeks-old emotional baggage, Zell couldn't keep himself annoyed at the bully.

"Look, man… I'm really sorry about what I said. It was-"

"Shut up, Dincht," Seifer said, and his face was closer, his expression now one of irritation/amusement/something unidentifiable. "Humility doesn't become you."

The martial artist could suddenly hear the world again, and moments later Seifer murmured that he tasted of the sea. The retort came that poetry didn't become him, and Zell was silenced again with warm softness, Seifer's arms around his waist and back, claiming him.

--

Better than ever, the cafeteria's hot dogs filled Zell to the brim. He got dangerously close to choking on more than one occasion during lunch, something his friends took no time in pointing out.

"And so, ya know, she begins whaling on the Belhelmel…" Ruma began again.

From across the way, Seifer was watching him. Directly. Openly. Even his underlings were keeping an eye on him, one more irritated than the other. He could have sworn that Fuujin was smiling.

Zell noticed. He stared back. One seconds, two seconds passed until he grinned cheekily at the swordsman without thinking of the consequences and excused himself from the table, disposing of the six hot dog cartons.

As he watched the scene play out, Raijin thought he finally understood... kind of.

* * *

Next up: **spice**. -grins- I love you guys! Stay with me, now!

This is seeming more and more like a chapter fic, huh? It is to me, too. I suppose you could treat the first chapter as snapshots from a life beyond this juvenile bickering between the two boys. In any case, I'll try and keep this thing I've got going a different animal from the rest of the flock.

Thanks for your guys' support!


	4. Zesty

(I can't believe it! I'm done writing this chapter! Dx I'M DONE!

Zell: Knowing you, man, I'd think you would have enjoyed writing this.

Soooome of it.)

More thanks to the returning reviewers!

**cerespallas:** Nah, the kiss scene was just a kiss. However, this next part isn't just kissing. xD Have fun, dear.

**ffrpgfan: **If I had more of an ego, I'd say that the use of the singular noun "mind" was intentional. Reading it again, I saw your point, and I have to agree! In the game they certainly act that way. Sad thing is that it makes them slightly less intelligent than the rest of the cast. xD; Thanks for coming back! Hope you enjoy this next section!

On to _Zesty_!

* * *

**FRESH FRIED FASTITOCALON-F 7/18 – 7/19/2008**

Seifer jerked and yanked at his fishing rod, whose float had suddenly plunged below the ocean surface. Damn fish really wanted to get away with the shiny lure and the fluorescent bait. That wasn't going to happen… not on his watch.

When he finally dragged his catch out of the water so he could see it, he growled low in his throat. A discarded tin of Gysahl Green Antiseptic Chews winked and glittered on the end of his line like some sort of tacky holiday ornament. He promptly tossed it away.

Almost immediately he found a cheek pressed to his. His waist, trapped between two strong blue thighs, was prevented from assuming any sort of extreme defensive posture. Zell deposited a warm parcel of fried Fastitocalon into Seifer's lap using the hand that wasn't warding off Seifer's reflexive brandishing of the fishing rod. The subtle taunt implied in the younger man's gift of fried local fish dissolved instantaneously as he applied a chaste, flighty kiss to Seifer's temple.

The pair remained that way for a few moments, and Seifer recast cautiously.

"You're distracting the hell out of me, Dincht."

"Ain't it great?"

"Depends." Seifer handed command of the rod over to Zell before he broke into his gifted lunch. He swore with his first bite. "What in the name of Hyne's mother did you get me, Chicken?!" Whatever it was, it wasn't breaded fish, and it BURNED. It could have been a piece of Ifrit's arse – there was no noticeable difference.

Zell, the buttmunch, was laughing away the countdown to Shit Goes Down. He was promptly silenced with Seifer's open mouth by the time he mentally reached T-minus five seconds and he swore too, though his string of profanity was muffled. With nothing but salt water at his disposal, Seifer opted to relieve the pain in his mouth by transferring some of the offending substance to the cooling moistness Zell had so openly displayed as he laughed.

Plunging his tongue into the martial artist's mouth, Seifer delighted in casually moving it in one devastating sweep, coating whatever flesh was available with a good amount of capsaicin.

Perfect teeth bit down on his tongue hard enough to hurt. Once Zell had been freed from Seifer's damnably sexy pain-kiss he experienced a grand exodus of nasty swearing.

"You brought it on yourself, idiot," Seifer snapped before he registered Gloved hands on his back and saltwater in his nose, eyes, and clothing. When he surfaced again, Zell had gone, presumably to cleanse his mouth of the searing chemical liberally applied to his sensitive oral tissues. Seifer didn't blame him for that, and in apology he was going to let Zell have the rest of his lunch.

**FIVE STARS 7/13 – 7/25/2008**

One moment caught Time by its throat and pinned it to the wall of Space. It must have been as content as Seifer was, trapped underneath Zell's spread thighs, breath arrested in his throat as he let his eyes roam over his personal slice of Hyne's masterwork. Beneath the hairstyle and bright colors the martial artist loved to wear lay a body perfect in every way. From the strong bulge of his deltoids to his toned, soft inner thighs, Seifer could find nothing he didn't want to smooth over with a kiss. Simply for convenience in getting where he wanted to go, the swordsman heaved himself up and over, trapping the upset Adonis within a cage of his limbs. Zell's eyes met his. He could feel himself sinking into that eternal sky. He didn't really care. But that was something best kept to himself, he decided, until he could understand the kind of power the younger man held over him, so unlike anything else, so much more powerful than an addiction or the grip of the strongest Sorceress since Hyne, and admit that he was defenseless against it.

He felt a thrill run down his spine. This nameless power unnerved him. Zell began to smirk as he identified the mix of confusion and pseudo-submission in the swordsman's eyes. He taunted Seifer by doing nothing, remaining supine. Knowing that he could influence the choices and the life of his rival and lover like this made the heat curling snugly in his lower abdomen intensify. However, he knew that this power couldn't outrun Seifer's dominance. He thought this while ensnared in the swordsman's possessive grip of steel, and almost admitted it to himself that he'd always have to submit at one point or another. He wasn't ready to say that aloud.

Zell groaned as Seifer Almasy's tongue insinuated itself into the defined grooved on his torso, leaving behind a maddeningly slick trail of saliva whose taste he knew all too well. As he was ground deeper and deeper into the mattress he pushed back with more and more force with his arms against the broad expanse of his lover's chest, with his hips against the other's, drawing his nails down Seifer's back, driving the both of them insane.

Seifer's mouth broke contact with Zell's skin at the neck, a quiet sucking noise.

He'd managed to stave off the biting lust he'd felt for Zell for so long, almost masochistically restraining himself until he could finally take the smaller man at a good time and place. (The idiot who dared to say he didn't learn anything and hadn't changed through the Sorceress War quickly found himself searching for teeth under tables and chairs.) Tonight was the best they'd get, better than back in Balamb. Here, in the stronghold of Galbadia Hotel's soundproofed walls, he didn't have to worry about anyone barging in or calling at unnecessary times. He was now a SeeD, as well. As far as he was concerned, he was getting paid to make love to Zell. He'd get his money if he spent his nights this way or not.

Zell managed to eke out half a sentence once he'd gathered his wits back about him. "Dammit, Almasy… just do it, now -- !" He gasped, wits scattering as his wish was hurriedly granted. They both came within moments of each other, almost in sync, and Zell couldn't remember if he'd initially felt pain. All he could feel now was a contented warmth. Still joined, the two rivals and lovers looked up at each other in wonder (masked, of course).

"… oh Hyne," Zell breathed, "I just lost my virginity to the world's biggest jackass."

Seifer winced noticeably, and he moved inside Zell to make him gasp chokedly. "I gave you mine. Is that any consolation?"

"You didn't sleep with Rinoa?"

"Hyne, no, never with someone like her."

"But with someone like me?" Zell blinked. "You know, I always wondered why and how the hell… this happened." As if these things could really be explained. As if this whole affair didn't go to show that attraction could transcend asinine quarreling and lasting immaturity.

The blonde swordsman pulled out, languorously slow, feeling the remnants of his lubricant still warming his shaft weakly in comparison to the tight heat of Zell Dincht. Almost immediately he wanted to take Zell again, but wouldn't for Zell's physical sake.

"Why? You're loud. Obnoxious." Strong. Sexy as hell. "Not as much of an idiot as you seem… sometimes." It was a laundry list of the martial artist's personal traits, some omitted. Seifer didn't fill in his gap in logic. He didn't offer any explanation. It was there, in and between and around the words, in the voice with the lusty note that made Zell's stomach churn expectantly. "… and while I pour my soft little heart out to you, I'm going to grab something to clean up with. You're even messier than I am when I come."

He moved to go but was stopped by Zell's forceful "Wait," and a soft tongue on his chest and stomach. Warm washcloths hardly compared to the feel of it. He felt himself stir and stiffen again. "Dammit…"

But Zell didn't care, laving his way down the line until he touched searingly hot flesh with his bruised lips and tongue.

"Z-zell…!" Seifer hissed.

Seifer had always deserved more credit than he'd been given in the past year or so. Zell made sure he knew that, giving him gratitude and reassurance with his sure mixture of teeth, tongue, and lips. When Seifer flexed his hips in orgasm and came deep in his throat, Zell whimpered as if he'd been the one serviced. He leaned his cheek on Seifer's inner thigh and rolled the mingled tastes of him and his lover over his tongue. "Whatever. I get it now."

**OLD MAGIC 7/25/2008**

Lade Duyn, a young cashier recently hired for the summer in Balamb's small gift boutique and pharmacy stared a bit too long at Mrs. Dincht's purchase of aspirin. The one container of older, earthy medicine had been collecting dust in the farthest corner of the shop since before his first day. He didn't think they made the stuff anymore. What was more, he was suspicious. Acetylsalicylic acid acted as an anticoagulant, making one's blood run thinner than normal. What in the hell was an unassuming older woman of respectable standing doing with such a deadly, ancient concoction?

"Is… is that all?" he swallowed and reluctantly touched and bagged the dead-feeling plastic. Even Potions, the lowest form of conventional medicine, had a quiet energy his highly-trained senses could perceive, but this rather crude collection of plant extracts in their deceptively immaculate tablets gave off nothing.

Mrs. Dincht nodded. She noted the SeeD candidate's swift divestment of her new mind-saving pills. When he asked, eyeing the copious amounts of pills in the rather large container, how one managed to take _that _all at once, she smiled sweetly and answered that you didn't.

Lade Duyn blinked.

"If you took it all at once, then it'd probably kill you. Don't they teach you about older forms of medicine at Garden?"

Lade Duyn shook his head. "Why do they still make it?" … if it's so potent? He was more used to a Hi-Potion or something he could swill down in an instant, not this potentially dangerous chemical.

"Thank goodness they do, young man, or they'd have a whole world of irritated old folks with migraines they don't want to waste 200 Gil on. Good luck with your studies this next year." She left, with Lade Duyn wondering if Sorceresses didn't just deal in fire and ice.

She set the bottle of aspirin in a conspicuous pace in the family room as soon as she got home after taking a few for her massive headache. She waited in the kitchen for the guilty party to come on down the stairs from his room. Zell came down moments later, obliviousness incarnate and limping slightly.

"Zell?"

"Yeah, Ma?"

"That's for you, hun."

The aspirin clunked softly as Zell picked it up to look at it. "… what the hell is it?"

"Painkillers."

Silence. Ma turned around, grinning with a touch of evil. "For you and for me."

Zell turned an impossible shade of red. "Uh… uhhh…"

"You two are awfully loud up there. You should be more careful. It's all fun and play until someone's eye gets knocked out, or until someone's mother is woken up for the second night to an infernal cracking noise."

Zell winced.

"You need some wood glue, too?"

"N- nah, that's fine…" Zell glanced at the bottle again. "… how the hell-"

"One at a time, son, one at a time."

Her son, her beautiful adopted son, eighteen and one-half years old and a successful SeeD living his life's dream, nodded sheepishly and limped back up the stairs. Mrs. Dincht smiled. It looked benevolent, but was far from it. At least her old, old magic, her mix of plants and questionable intentions, had saved her head and her son's posture for at least one more day. She couldn't account for the other blonde under her roof, but she could only hope that he could hold his own against a sleep-deprived old bag named Ma Dincht.

* * *

Next chapter's the last... I'm not quite sure whether to laugh or mope.

R&R! Y'all must stay with me to the **robust** end!


	5. Esculent

**A/N: **First off, I want to thank all of the readers, those who have reviewed and those who have simply added _Flavors_ to your Story Alerts! Special thanks goes to **cerespallas, ffrpgfan, **and **Agent Oz** for all of their feedback and simply for staying with me through this all.

Yes, this is the last chapter. Hence, I shall be replying to reviews in the normal way from now on; you will see my replies on the review page along with your guy's comments. Even though this fic won't continue on past this point, I still appreciate feedback as the criticism I receive will help me in subsequent fics... -glances shiftily over at _Corruption of Hyne-_

To **cerespallas**: Yup, finally. We were all waiting, and all that jazz. xD Thanks, dear, for being the sole continuous reviewer as well as the first reviewer! 8D Joy and happiness abound! I suppose I'll be seeing you around later, eh?

All right, all of you aforementioned individuals, sit back and enjoy the last installment of _The Five Flavors of Seifer And Zell!_

* * *

**THE PRODIGAL FATHERS 7/28/2008**

"They'll be here soon."

"The ship's late, though, y'know?"

"They always are. We're not too keen on adhering strictly to deadlines either, remember?"

"Yeah, but – hey, there it is, y'know?!"

Raijin turned fully towards the sea, having spotted the quickly approaching vessel. His white teeth were flashing now in the sun, in stark relief against his chocolate-hued skin, whose color had deepened in the six years he'd been living in Fisherman's Horizon. His wife's skin, too, was perceptibly darker, tan for her but still pale for most others. The both of them wore casual clothes – Fuujin had dressed uncharacteristically in a long, tiered skirt that reached to her ankles, having been forced to do so by the equatorial "summer's" oppressive heat.

They could spot the bouncing form of a brightly dressed girl and a man in a large hat on the bow of the ship. As they watched, another person, a blonde woman, joined the pair on the deck. No one else followed.

Raijin's smile fell slightly. "Uh, it doesn't look like we have the entire crew, y'know…"

All three vanished and the vessel crept closer. Fuujin said nothing. Seawater lapped voraciously at the sides of the pier, upset by the craft coming to a stop by its side. Inside, the massive engine began to slow, sounding first like a roar, then a heartbeat, then like the gentle moaning of the ocean before a storm. Its overlaid whine disappeared in a matter of moments. A few minutes later, the door in the hull opened, setting free its occupants, of which there were very few. Only the craziest mend and women deigned to travel here in the middle of a sweltering day…

… so why didn't _they_ follow Selphie, Irvine, and Quistis off of the boat? Irvine answered that question as he lugged Selphie's bags along, sweating profusely.

Back at home, Zell had been bumped off of the noon shuttle. Even though he, Seifer, and the others had purchased their tickets as a package, his ticket would not register at the terminal. Recently passed laws regarding such events stated that for security purposes and fairness to the passengers, he would be given free transportation on the one o'clock shuttle instead. Of course, Seifer refused to go ahead, preferring Zell's company. He trusted the other three to tell his closest friends the trouble.

Raijin knew that it wasn't a knock against him, but something inside of him shifted, moving belatedly into place. He couldn't quite understand it, as he had come to terms with his ex-leader's relationship long, long ago, and had been living apart from him and Zell for a period of five years with one or two visits.

He guessed that that was it. The younger Raijin had finally dissipated, acknowledging the new face and temperament of a loyalty that would never waver through the years.

But five years! His older self felt miffed and irritated in the face of modern technology's foibles.

Fuujin's hand touched his shoulder. He heard her say in a soft voice to snap the hell out of it and help carry Quistis' things up to town.

Raijin used the long climb to catch up with history, knowing he had one hand on it but wanting to sink the fingers of his other hand in. He'd never gotten to know these three individuals quit as well as anyone else. He knew he'd changed even more strongly as soon as he struck up a conversation with the green-eyed girl in the bright blue summer dress that fluttered as she walked, so different from his wife but tolerable now that she'd matured; and her boyfriend, still arrogant but less so; and Quistis, always a good woman, hardworking, cheerful, sharp as the crack of a whip. These people once were enemies, and now they were the greatest of friends.

When he looked over at Fuujin, she was smiling wider than she ever had before. She'd realized the same thing.

It disappeared when Irvine made a crack about 'rictus' or something like that. Raijin had to help him limp to the hotel, but all five laughed along the way, benefiting from the transience of hatred.

Seifer glanced up at the clock on the station wall. He hated waiting and would always hate it. The forty-five minutes that had passed had done nothing to quell his annoyance, though it lessened when Zell lay his head on Seifer's shoulder. In the six years they'd been together, he'd developed a weakness to Zell's every touch; he'd been able to admit it openly for five of those without thought to his reputation.

"Love ya," Zell said.

"Love you, too." The words fell from his lips like rain. They were a statement of fact. He was reciting a law of nature. Neither man retained surprise at hearing this truth issue out from the other anymore – they felt quiet joy at each spoken affirmation.

Green eyes met blue ones as they sensed each other's flowery thoughts, taunting one another, knowing every jab they could make but not making them, saying them with the way they sat up and postured, nullifying them by clasping their bare hands tightly. Seifer felt his own lips split in an arrogant grin, asserting the superiority he only had by Zell's admission.

Zell pouted. "You're an ass," he said in response to nothing.

"I know," Seifer replied, and the both of them rose to board the one o'clock shuttle.

Matron Edea Kramer received a call on the orphanage's one old telephone. All of the children stopped playing to listen to the alien jangling, and crowded around the nearest window to watch the conversation. They couldn't quite make out the words, since their matron was on the other side of a door, but they all knew what the call was for, and when they heard the click of the headpiece back in its cradle, the children dispersed and began to chatter excitedly amongst themselves.

The one six-year-old of the group, a young brown-eyed boy too old to just be one of Matron's charges, stepped into the orphanage and asked who it was, and if he needed to help prepare anything for the coming adoption. She said no, just to clean his room and fold his clothes, then to go out and watch the other children for the afternoon while she did the necessary work.

For an hour or so they played a game of soccer. Afterwards he took the gaggle of squawking kids into the garden and gave them small tasks, like watering or weeding the beds, and made the trek up to the one little isolated cave of stone that housed his personal bed of flowers.

Much to his surprise, another plant, some sort of Centra wildflower borne on the wind, had taken root and begun to bloom in his small planter. Though he was protective of the original plant, he treated this newcomer with as much care and diligence, making sure not to drown the slender orange flower with too much water.

The first plant was as healthy as ever, blooming profusely with red-and-white and blue-and-yellow blooms. He asked its permission and picked one of each color set, to take down to Matron.

He stood and turned when he heard his name being called.

Coming up the way were the two blonde men that had visited two years ago. He remembered the shorter one almost immediately because of his facial tattoo, and the taller one because of his height and bearing. They were looking around for one particular face in the sea of kids, their new adopted son or daughter. He kept still, knowing they'd find him or her without his help. Adoptive parents simply knew the child they wanted. It was something they knew from the first moment they heard the child's name.

The taller man spotted him first, saying his name. "Hayner?"

He nodded, eyes wide, holding the flowers close to his chest. "Yeah."

The shorter companion motioned him over. Hayner approached cautiously but quickly, nearly tripping over his feet and crushing his prized blooms. Both men crouched down to eyelevel, their clear green and blue eyes on his face. He felt his cheeks turn a bit red out of excitement and worry.

"You remember us?"

Hayner nodded. "You're Zell and Seifer. You used to be Matron's kids." He didn't add that he thought Zell's tattoo was still as awesome as ever. He'd sound like a dumb kid.

"I hope you're packed up, Hayner." Seifer smiled, noticing the flowers the child clutched so cautiously. Hayner paled visibly, out of shock.

He looked from one face to the other, twice, facing the clarity of both men's gazes. "M-me?!"

"Yeah," Zell nodded, and the rest of what he planned to say was brought up short by the cry of joy from the other children, and the warmth of Hayner's arms around his and Seifer's neck, the flowers falling into their laps.

"Damn it," Squall said, to whoever was on the phone, "I thought I said we don't need you guys to proliferate."

And he laughed.


End file.
